The Piano
by blind4seer
Summary: A story of two friends at the very beginning of the Host Club.


Disclaimer: If any of you are sue-happy people, please keep in mind that the only things in my wallet are dust bunnies and that the total tonnage of creative power in my brain right now is comparable to a lump of mud sitting in the Sahara. My point? If you think I own _Ouran High School Host Club_ or any of the characters, you're even worse off than I am.

Authors' Note: It's midterm week and I'm going out of my mind. I wrote this story partially because I couldn't get it out of my head and partially because I'm trying to keep my brain from shutting down. Between writing this fic in my break time and the continuous flow of caffeine into my system, I think I just may survive this week. This fanfic is a slice-of-life kind of story. I love the chemistry between Kyouya and Tamaki, and while the story here may be a bit cliché, I just wanted to explore what I could do with that relationship. I didn't intend to write a shonen-ai fic, but by all means, enjoy it as such if it suits your pleasure. Anyhow… Thank you for clicking on this fanfic and for being brave enough to read it. Please review! You can't believe how happy I feel when I get to read your comments and thoughts.

_"Where there's music there can be love."  
– French Proverb  
_

:: the piano ::

The first thought which entered Kyouya's mind upon entering the 3rd floor music room, was how empty it was. Sunlight streamed visibly in thin layers through the clouded windows and the stale scent of air locked too long inside flooded his senses. The amount of dust was a testament to how blatantly the music room had been forgotten by the students and staff.

"So?" asked Tamaki excitedly stepping though the doorway, "Isn't it perfect?"

Kyouya eyed the room with a skeptical expression. "It's very pink," he said bluntly.

It seemed ironic that the music room to such an ornate campus would be in such a state, but it made perfect sense. Many commoners assume that cultivation in the classics and an education in the arts would be a given for heirs of prestigious families such as those attending Ouran High. It was true to an extent, Kyouya supposed. Children did learn the basics to music and art, but for teenagers reaching adulthood, the primary goal of education was in business and management. After all, why would they need training in music when they could just hire an orchestra?

"This is a _Host _Club," said Tamaki, completely unfazed by Kyouya's remark, "We're supposed to cater to the female tastes. I hardly think they would mind if the room is pink."

Tamaki began to ramble on about what they could do, ideas of what their first meeting would be like, how the room could be arranged, etc. Kyouya stepped into the room next to him and began to make a mental list of what needed to be done before the start of the school year and before the start of club activities. The room, especially the windows, needed to be cleaned, furniture needed to be purchased, and of course, they needed members. There was so much to do and so little time left.

Kyouya jumped as he felt a sharp finger prod his side. He realized that Tamaki had stopped rambling. "Well," Tamaki said with uncontained energy, "You haven't told me what you think."

"I think you're an idiot."

"Mou, I know that already! Tell me what you think about the room!"

"It's very dusty and…," Kyouya was going to say more about how much work the clean up effort would take, but when he saw Tamaki's hopeful wide, hopeful eyes, he wilted. "…it certainly has… potential."

"I knew you would think so!" Tamaki danced happily. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Kyouya shook his head, "We need to call the campus cleaning crew first. The windows alone will probably take the greater part of this week, and-"

But Kyouya's words were falling upon deaf ears, and Tamaki was already beckoning him from the other end of the room. Kyouya wilted again. More and more, he was becoming aware of just how difficult it was to resist his blonde-haired friend. As he drew closer to Tamaki, Kyouya saw with no little surprise a large, formless object tucked into the corner of the music room. It was completely invisible from the doorway. A white plume of fine dust billowed in the air as Tamaki pulled the white cloth away. Kyouya immediately recognized the shape and color an ebony grand piano.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Tamaki said quietly touching the smooth glossy surface of the instrument. "I found her in the back room earlier and couldn't resist bringing her out here. A Steinway grand! Can you believe it?"

"An American brand?" asked Kyouya blankly. If the piano was anything like American-manufactured cars, it was little wonder why the instrument was tucked away and forgotten.

Tamaki nodded, "Probably from New York. I've never seen one of these pianos up close before!"

Kyouya blinked in surprise. There was no doubt – no doubt – that the Suou family had similar grand pianos in their main family home. He suspected this piano was donated to the school as a throw-away instrument in somehow unfitting of the Japan main house. Flawed. As Kyouya looked at Tamaki's happy expression, he felt a pang of an unfamiliar, bitter emotion in the pit of his stomach. "So," he said, determined not to carry his train of thought further, "What's so special about this piano?"

"Are you kidding me? This is a _Steinway_," Tamaki said, speaking the name as if it was reason enough.

Now, Kyouya had seen many pianos – black ones, brown ones, electronic ones and even ones which stood upright against walls. This one looked like any other ordinary grand piano and it was the same color as the Yamaha he had at home. "It looks pretty old."

"Yeah, from the design she's got to be at least eighty years old," Tamaki said excitedly.

"Can it still play?"

Tamaki grinned evilly, as if he had been waiting for Kyouya to ask that question. Kyouya grimaced and knew immediately he had stepped into the wrong conversation tangent. Tamaki pulled a piano bench from out of nowhere and quickly sat down.

"Nee, let's find out if she can," Tamaki said excitedly, patting the empty space beside him. Kyouya reluctantly sat down on the wooden bench and felt the shift in Tamaki's arms as they reached for the pearly-white keys. He felt out of place.

"Well, don't just sit there. Gimme your hand," Tamaki said.

"But I don't know how to play," Kyouya responded, a little self-consciously.

Tamaki simply laughed and snatched Kyouya's hand in his warm grasp. "You don't need to know how to play. Just rest your hand here and close your eyes." Tamaki placed his hand on the smooth surface of the piano. Kyouya relented with a soft sigh and kept his hand on the piano.

"Now what?"

"Now, pick a key."

"What?"

"I mean, uh, pick a letter in the English alphabet between A and G," Tamaki said.

"D."

"Alright. D it is."

Kyouya felt Tamaki shift positions as his back straightened and arms stretched to rest gently upon the keys. There was a pause like a breath of air held in anticipation. And then Kyouya felt the silence break. The first note entered his fingers and traveled up his hand in the deep hum of melody. Tamaki's fingers raced up and down the piano and the notes flowed smoothly through the bass and treble clef like crystal water. They were just scales, Kyouya realized after a moment. It was just an easy finger exercise to warm up the hands and to learn the sound, but the resonance was exquisite.

Three passes down the piano and the warm-up was done. Kyouya opened his eyes, half expecting Tamaki to stop and half wanting him to continue. Tamaki didn't stop. Before Kyouya realized it, more music filled the room. Johann Pachelbel's, _Canon in D minor. _Kyouya had heard many renditions of it, so much so that he had affectionately renamed the piece _Elevator Music for the Musically Inept_. The godforsaken piece was a stable at every graduation party and social event he had been forced to attend since he was three. The melody was everywhere he never wanted to be, and Kyouya hated it.

And yet… this time, the music was different. Kyouya felt the notes resonate from the piano through his hands to the deep hollow of his chest. The feeling was indescribable, and the music, to Kyouya's surprise, was beautiful.

The song ended too soon in Kyouya's opinion, and empty silence filled the room once again. Neither of the boys wanted to speak, and for a long moment they sat quietly side-by-side on the narrow piano bench.

"She's got an unbelievable singing voice." Predictably, it was Tamaki who broke the stillness first. "Don't you think?"

"As if I know anything about pianos."

An infuriating grin spread across Tamaki's face. "I'm glad you think so too."

"Idiot," retorted Kyouya, the edge was gone from his voice. He wondered if Tamaki was really so completely oblivious to himself. He wondered of Tamaki knew that the real singer wasn't the piano at all.

"Nee… before, you said something about calling the campus cleaning crew. Have any idea where they are?"

"On campus."

"Yeah, I don't know either." Tamaki leaned back on the piano bench and looked at his bench-mate expectantly, "So, what's next? Shall we journey forth to search for their illustrious office?"

After a long pause Kyouya answered haltingly. "Could you…could you play that piece again?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted the selfish request.

Tamaki blinked in surprise before his lips curved into a genuine, warm smile. And the empty room was once more filled with music.


End file.
